


One Black Coffee

by Hock_hug



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst, Career Ending Injury, Jack doesn't deserve this, Jeff is the friend we all want, Pining, Some Fluff, connor is a sweetheart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 13:56:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17143025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hock_hug/pseuds/Hock_hug
Summary: Jack's life kind of sucks, but at least he has his coffeeshop





	One Black Coffee

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dhils](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dhils/gifts).



> Hi, dhils! I tried to toss in some angst, but the main thing here is the hockey player/non-hockey player au. I hope you enjoy!

Jack loved the bakery. It wasn’t too big, and it wasn’t too busy, but it was homey in a way that left everyone that came in wanting to come back. Sabres Bakery was technically run by a semi-sleazy accountant named Phil Housley, who rarely ever came out of his office in the back, but Jack had ownership of the shop and essentially ran it himself, along with the newest hire, Jeff Skinner. Jeff was a kid straight out of college who made his way to Edmonton to seek out job opportunities or some shit like that, and in the little time that he’d been working, he pulled in more customers and put out more goods than most of the rest of the team combined. Not that Jack would ever want anyone fired, the team was the closest thing he had to family and he honestly didn’t know what he would do without them, even if they were incompetent. 

 

This very morning, though, Jack kind of hated the bakery. Summer was coming to a close and school was starting up again, and every morning brought giant groups of students in at the same time. It wasn’t a huge problem, money was money, but it could be a hassle.

 

“You’d think they’d learn to come in at different times at this point,” Jeff said while making an overly complicated mocha-frappe-something for an impatient college student. There were about fifteen people in line and all Jack wanted to do was get them through the door. 

 

“They’ll either figure it out or start going somewhere else soon enough,” Jack responded while cranking out three orders at once. It didn’t take too long for the line to dwindle until the only people left in the shop were sitting around tables, already enjoying their drinks. Jack sighed as he started wiping down the counter. One of the customers had spilled her chai during the rush. She had been very apologetic and he made her a new one, but it was still a hassle. The bell above the door chimed and Jack barely held back another sigh, putting on the happiest persona he could at this point in his day.

 

“Welcome to Sabres, what can I get you?” 

 

“Uh, just a black coffee, please.”

 

Jack froze for a second because _he knows that voice, oh god, everybody knows that voice_ and he turned around to see the one and only, Connor McDavid, standing in his cramped, little coffee shop asking for a plain black coffee.

 

“Gimme just one sec and I’ll get that right out for you,” Jack said, taking pride in how steady his voice remained. “Would you like anything else with that? We just had a batch of blueberry muffins come out of the oven.”

 

He watched Connor McDavid (fucking McJesus was in his bakery holy shit) examine his muffins and smile. “Yeah, actually, those look really good.”

 

Jack couldn’t stop a burst of pride from blossoming in his chest. Connor McDavid thought his muffins looked good. Not just good, but really good. Not that he cared or anything.

 

As Jack began to make the coffee, the initial shock of seeing McJesus in his bakery began to wear off, and a deep sense of irritation began to set in. Why did McDavid come to this coffee shop out of all of the ones in Edmonton? Was it just so he didn’t get recognized, or did he want dumb hipster points? And who the hell orders plain black coffee at nearly 1:00 in the afternoon? Doesn’t he have something better to do, like practice?

 

At the thought of hockey, something cold and bitter settled in Jack’s stomach. He grabbed McDavid’s muffin and put a lid on his coffee before taking a deep breath. There was no reason for him to get mad. So what if fucking Connor McDavid came into his shop, he was gonna leave in a minute anyways and then he’d never come back again. 

 

Putting on his fakest, brightest smile, Jack turned around to McDavid and handed him his order. 

 

“Enjoy!” Jack was proud of how level his voice was, but the look Jeff shot him said he wasn’t being as subtle as he thought. Connor seemed none the wiser, taking the items with a smile in return. 

 

“Thank you so much!” 

 

And with that, Connor McDavid left Sabres Coffeehouse and Bakery forever, never to return.

 

Everything was fine.

 

~

 

Everything was NOT fine and Jack was, in simplest terms, losing his shit because McDavid kept coming back.

 

At least once a week, usually twice or more, McDavid would walk into the shop, smile at Jack, and order a black coffee and whatever Jeff felt like making that day. He’d always tip a ridiculous amount (a one hundred dollar bill? Who just keep that laying around in their wallet?) and thank Jack before he left. It was grating on Jack’s nerves, but Jeff didn’t seem to understand.

 

“So what? It’s just Connor McDavid. You know, this could be really good for business if he mentioned us.” Jeff said, sipping his latte. There was a lull at the shop and Jack took the opportunity to air out his woes to his best friend. 

 

“He could go literally anywhere, and he chooses to come to Sabres,” Jack responded. “What do we have that nobody else can give him?”

 

“No other place has the two hottest baristas in Canada.” Jack couldn’t help but snort. Yeah, Jeff was hot (and Jack told him so whenever they got too drunk together), but he knew he was lacking in the appearances department. “But seriously, why does it bother you so much? Is it the hockey thing?” 

 

Jack couldn’t stop himself from flinching or from looking away from the growing sadness on Jeff’s face.

 

“Hey, Jack, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

 

Jack shrugged it off. “It’s fine, I shouldn’t get so dramatic about it. But, yeah, it’s probably the hockey thing.”

 

Jack had been an incredible hockey player before the accident. He’d been the captain of his juniors team, he got a full ride to Boston University to play, he’d played on the U.S. National U18 Team before a drunk driver slammed into his car and destroyed all of his dreams of ever playing professionally. The doctors told him he was lucky to be alive but it didn’t feel that way when he found out that he lost everything he lived for. He couldn’t handle the pity from his parents, from his friends, from the strangers on the streets, so he packed up, moved from Boston to Edmonton, and opened Sabres.

 

In the beginning, he had to use his cane nearly every day, and he still kept it with him just in case. That had been years ago, and hockey was still a sore spot, but he wasn’t recognized in Edmonton, and the Oilers were bad enough that they didn’t bother him too much. Seeing The Connor McDavid, the next Crosby, the savior of Edmonton in the flesh, though, was too much for him to handle. Jack had no reason to hate him. He was never rude, in fact, one might even call him sweet, and he wasn’t too hard on the eyes either. In another world, Jack might ask for Connor’s number the next time he came in, maybe take him to the little diner a few blocks over, maybe make him coffee the next morning. But in this world, Jack couldn’t walk right most days, much less skate, and Connor had everything Jack ever dreamed of at his fingertips.

 

How could Jack not hate him?

 

~

 

Jack got used to Connor soon enough. As the hockey season began, Connor’s timing became less predictable, and he wouldn’t come in at all some weeks when the Oilers were traveling. He’d get his coffee and his treat (Jeff’s macarons were his favorites, though he never had more than one a week) and leave, and soon enough the season was over. Connor stopped coming in and Jack tried his best to stop expecting him. Summer was busy enough to keep Jack from getting restless, and usually, it was his favorite season. He loved the sun, he loved that it was warm out but not too hot for hot coffee, and he loved the kids that would come in and buy whatever they could with their pocket change. This summer, though, was rougher than he expected. The kids were still great and Canadian-polite, the weather was wonderful, but he still caught himself glancing at the door all too often, waiting for someone that wouldn’t come.

 

~

 

Summer turned to fall, and the cycle started again. The student rush was as bad as it always was, and Jack still watched the door as if Connor McDavid would walk through it again. It was driving him (and everyone else) insane. 

 

“Man, you really need to go out and do something with yourself,” Jeff told him, with as much sternness as he could muster at eight in the morning. “I’m getting sick and tired of you moping about McDavid. Maybe if you had actually talked to him, he’d come back.” 

 

Jack didn’t dignify that with a response, but he knew Jeff had a point. He had been moping for too long and it wasn’t helping anything. If McDavid never came back, he didn’t come back and that was that. There was nothing he could do about it. If he came back, it wouldn’t even matter either. Jack didn’t care either way. At least, that’s what he told himself as the door opened one afternoon in October to reveal none other than McJesus himself. 

 

“Welcome back, McDavid. The usual?” Jack asked, unable to keep the surprise and happiness out of his voice. 

 

Connor blushed and laughed a bit, rubbing the back of his neck. 

 

“Yeah, I’d appreciate it. You know you can call me Connor, right?”

 

“One black coffee and a macaron coming right up, for Connor.”

 

As Jack worked, he couldn’t help but glance at Connor, every once in a while catching his eye and smiling. Once he was done, he hesitated before scribbling his number on Connor’s cup, right under his name. He couldn’t help the flush that crept up his cheeks when he handed Connor’s order over. 

 

“Just in case you, ya know, want to know the macaron flavor of the day or whatever,” Jack mumbled, already regretting the decision. Connor, sweet as ever, didn’t call him out. 

 

“Thank you, I’ll be sure to message you as soon as I get the chance.” Connor’s smile lit up his face (and Jack’s day), and then he was gone. Jack spent the rest of his day waiting for his phone to go off, but it never did. Eventually, he closed the shop and made his way home, ignoring the sting of rejection. He was just getting in bed when his phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number. 

 

_ Hey, sorry this is coming in so late, today was crazy busy _

_ It’s Connor by the way _

_ From the coffee shop _

 

Jack smiled softly at the messages and put Connor’s number into his phone. 

 

J: Hey Connor from the coffee shop, thanks for the text 

C: Hey! What are you still doing up? It’s getting late

J: I could ask you the same thing 

C: I was just headed to bed, I wanted to text you before I forgot

J: I appreciate it. Get some rest, you deserve it

C: You too! Good night :)

J: Goodnight

 

Jack was still smiling by the time he got settled enough to sleep. Who would’ve thought he’d ever have Connor McDavid’s number? He fell asleep to thoughts of almost-blond hair and warm smiles.

 

~

 

Texting became a norm for them. Sometimes Jack would send Connor pictures of the sunrise from the shop if he opened or Jeff’s misadventures in baking, and Connor would tell him about the pranks his teammates would pull or he’d complain about how short practice was. Sometimes they’d talk in the shop, but mostly they kept it short and sweet, though Jack had taken to doodling on Connor’s cup. It stayed like that until one day in early December when Connor stayed after Jack handed him his order.

 

“What, are the peppermint macarons not that good?” Jack joked when he noticed that Connor didn’t go to leave. “Don’t tell Jeff, it’ll break his heart.”

 

Connor flushed in response.

 

“No, the macarons are amazing as always, it’s just…” He trailed off, looking away for a moment. “There’s a team party next Friday. A Christmas party, and I told some of the guys that I’d bring a date and you were the only person I could think of so I was just wondering if you could come with me? If you aren't busy? Please?”

 

Jack’s heart was racing. Connor McDavid asking him, Jack Eichel, washed up hockey player-turned barista to act like his date for an Oiler’s Christmas party? Not plausible, yet it was happening. He had to say yes.

 

“Yeah, of course, man, just text me the deets.” Connor’s face lit up.

 

“Sweet, will do! Thank you so much!”

 

“No problem, Connor.” And with that, Connor was gone again, and Jack was left in the shop wondering just what he had gotten himself into.

 

~

 

The day of the party came sooner than Jack was expecting it to. He had taken the day off, and Jeff had as well (“It’s not like the team will burn the place down. They can handle us being gone for one day.”) to help him get ready. 

 

“Jack, just wear the blue button down, I’m sure they aren’t gonna be dressed to the nines.” 

 

“You don’t know that! I don’t know that!” Jeff groaned and threw the button down in question at Jack.

 

“Please, just fucking get dressed. And wear tight jeans. You know the ones, they make your ass pop.” Jack did know the ones, and eventually, he put them on with the button down, and he had to admit he didn’t look terrible. He tried to fix his hair, but he knew nothing could save it, and by the time Connor sent him a text letting him know he had arrived at Jack’s apartment building, he’d been ready and pacing nervously for half an hour.

 

“You’re gonna be fine, Jack,” Jeff said, rolling his eyes. “It’s just a Christmas party.”

 

~

 

The car ride to the party was surprisingly comfortable. Connor told him more about his teammates while Jack tried not to get too much of his palm sweat on Connor’s car. Connor grabbed his hand and led him inside, and Jack’s heart skipped a beat. The party was already in full swing when they entered, and Jack was immediately overwhelmed. There weren’t too many people, Jack assumed it was just the team and their significant others, but it was still a lot. People came up to Connor, and Jack was introduced to everyone pretty quickly. He was handed a beer by someone’s wife (Kelly Talbot? Jack was pretty sure she had mentioned Cam), and they got to talking while Connor chatted with one of his teammates. After a while, Jack began to relax and enjoy himself, and made his way into the kitchen to get himself another beer. Two of Connor’s teammates were standing by the fridge, and Jack shouldn’t have listened, he should’ve just left, but he stayed.

 

“He’s gotta know he can do better than that, right?” One of the guys said. “I mean, yeah, Davo’s not the best looking guy, but he’s way out of that kid’s league.” 

 

Jack felt his stomach drop and his blood run cold. God, he shouldn’t have said yes. 

 

“Honest, Davo said he works at a coffee shop. He could date a model, or a millionaire, and he goes with a barista? What a waste. He’d gotta be fucking with us.” Both of them laughed, and Jack started to shake.

 

“Maybe it’s a pity thing, you know? Davo said he thought the guy was Jack Eichel, you know, the one that got in an accident? He kinda looks like him. Anyways, it would be just like him to take someone like that on like a charity case. It would make sen-”

 

“Guys, what the fuck?” Jack jumped as Connor appeared behind him. His teammates glanced over, horror taking over their expressions as they noticed Jack standing there.

 

_ What a waste.  _ Jack could feel his eyes burning as he turned and stumbled past Connor and away from the kitchen.  _ What a waste.  _ Of course, he was a waste. How could he ever think he could that he could be friends with Connor McDavid, much less in a relationship with him? He had to leave.

 

“Jack, wait!” Connor grabbed his wrist and he pulled away. He wanted to scream, to tell Connor that he wasn’t a fucking charity case, but he knew that if he opened his mouth, he’d cry, and he didn’t want to give Con- McDavid another reason to pity him. He had to get out, he had to leave, and he did. He walked for two blocks before calling an Uber, to take him to Jeff’s place his hip aching almost as much as his heart. He may be a waste, but he didn’t want to be alone. Jeff answered the door, took one look at him, and pulled him into a hug.

 

“The guest bedroom is always set up, stay here tonight.”

 

Jack sniffled, pulling away and nodding. He grabbed a glass of water and shuffled into the guest room, stripped, and buried himself in the bed after blocking McDavid’s number. He wanted nothing more than to sleep, and he drifted off to the thoughts of green eyes and cold nights. 

 

~

 

Jack took a week off. He didn’t want to see the bakery for a while. Everything there reminded him of McDavid (he couldn’t be Connor anymore, Connor meant Jack still had feelings and he didn’t, he couldn’t), and Jack simply couldn’t handle it. When Jack came back, everyone gave him a wide berth, letting him do what he did without too much of an issue. After about a week things started going back to normal. The Christmas rush was starting, and Jack poured himself into his job. Ever cup of coffee was filled perfectly, every order was taken with a smile, every treat presented beautifully. Things got better. The shop stopped reminding him of McDavid, and work started getting better. Jeff stopped shooting him concerned looks whenever the door opened, and Jack started smiling more.

 

Naturally, shit hit the fan. It was a bad hip day, Jack had to use his cane and couldn’t stand for longer than fifteen minutes at a time, and it was freezing out. He had just sat down when the bell on the door jingled, and he heaved a sigh as he stood again, leaning on his cane for support. 

 

“Welcome to Sabres, what can I get you?”

 

“Just the regular, if that’s okay.” Jack’s heart stopped as he looked up. There stood McDavid, hands in his pockets, eyes sad with his lips twisted in a slight frown. Jack just nodded and got to work. ‘ _ One black coffee, one peppermint macaron, it’s fine’  _ became Jack’s mantra for a minute. He poured the coffee and wrapped the macaron in a napkin, and handed them over. 

 

“One black coffee and macaron for McDavid.” Jack saw him flinch and his heart hurt, but he ignored it. McDavid didn’t deserve his hurt.

 

“Jack, can we please talk?” McDavid asked, pleaded really, and Jack wanted to throw his coffee in his face. Unfortunately, Jack was a decent person.

 

“I guess. I go on break in ten.” McDavid nodded, and took a seat at one of the tables. Ten minutes never seemed so long as Jack took orders and tried his hardest not to glance over at him. When the ten minutes were up, Jack took his apron off and walked to the table, sitting across from him.

 

“You wanted to talk?” Jack asked warily. He really didn’t want to kick anyone out of his shop, much less the savior of Edmonton.

 

“Yes. Jack, I am so sorry about the guys. I don’t know why they’d say that stuff, I don’t feel that way at all. You do know that, right?” When Jack didn’t answer, Connor’s face crumbled. “Well, I don’t. I don’t agree with anything they said. You’re wonderful and kind and so funny, and I just wanted to take you out, to see you outside of this place. I’m sorry that they said that stuff, it was more than uncalled for.” 

 

Jack nodded. “It was uncalled for. I regret going with you.”

 

Hurt flashed across Connor’s face, but it was gone as soon as it came. “I completely understand. I wish I could take it all back.”

 

“Good. Now, are you just here to apologize? Can I go back to work?” Jack didn’t want to be rude, but he also didn’t want to be having this conversation. 

 

Connor shook his head. “I wanted to ask you for a second chance. I want to prove that I want to be around you, that I care about you. I like you a lot Jack, and I want to have the chance to show you that. I want to spend New Year’s Eve with you. Just us, none of my teammates.” 

 

Jack sighed. “I don’t know…”

 

“Please?” Connor looked desperate, and Jack could feel his resolve breaking. “I just want to fix things. I miss you.”

 

After a moment, Jack nodded. “Yeah, I’ll do it.” It was just one night, he could handle that, right?

 

~ 

 

Jack showed up at Connor’s house (he was back to being Connor, calling him McDavid was exhausting) with two bottles of decent wine and his cane at exactly 8:32 on New Year’s Eve. Connor opened the door and smiled, taking the wine and leading Jack inside.

 

“Make yourself at home. I was just finishing dinner.” Connor gestured towards the living room. “Mi casa es su casa, and all that.”

 

Jack snorted, much to Connor’s apparent delight, and made his way over to one of Connor’s couches. The couch was comfortable and stylish, though that was overshadowed by the soft, plush Oilers blanket draped over the back. It wasn’t long before Connor came back out with two plates covered in pasta and fish. Connor sat down for about two seconds before jumping back up and running into the kitchen, only to return moments later with two glasses of wine. They ate side by side, which honestly should’ve been super weird, but it was comfortable. The chatted a bit as they ate, and soon enough Jack had Connor laughing over dumb stories about the shop; Jack found himself relaxing as he ate, and by the time his plate was clean, he was completely at ease in Connor’s presence. It was just like before the Christmas party, when all Jack wanted was to be with Connor, to be around Connor, to be Connor’s. The thought of that night made him sad, and it must’ve shown because Connor’s face fell too. 

 

“Jack,” Connor said, looking him in the eyes, “I know the Christmas party was terrible. But you have to know that what they said wasn’t true at all. Yeah, I knew who you were, but that didn’t change anything. To me, you’re Jack Eichel, the sweetest barista in Edmonton. Can I tell you something?”

 

Jack nodded, not trusting himself to speak past the lump forming in his throat.

 

“I hate coffee.”

 

_Wait, what?_ “Are you serious?” 

 

Connor smiled, a small, tender thing. “Yeah, I can’t stand the taste of coffee, black coffee especially. I needed to get a cup for a friend that first time, and I just couldn’t stop coming back. I wanted to see you again.” Connor’s face was bright red at this point, and Jack just wanted to kiss his rosy cheek. 

 

“I’m glad you came back. I really like you, Connor, I just don’t want you to be with me out of pity.” Jack shrugged. Honesty was the best policy, and he needed to get this off of his chest.

 

“I’ve never pitied you.” Connor’s expression was fierce, his eyes determined. “I never could. You are incredible, and I-” Connor faltered, his expression turning vulnerable. “I really like you too.” 

 

Jack didn’t resist the urge this time and leaned over and kissed Connor’s cheek. Before he could move away, Connor gently grabbed his chin and tilted his head and kissed him, soft and sweet. They spent what felt like forever and no time at all on Connor’s couch, alternating between exchanging kisses and talking. As midnight approached, they started a countdown, and the kiss they shared when the clock struck twelve was somehow sweeter than all of the ones they had already shared that night. 

 

Jack knew without a doubt that this year would be incredible.

**Author's Note:**

> I am nosekknows on tumblr, come say hi!


End file.
